Wow, this year has really become exhausting.  Too much going on.  I don't know if this year has been better or worse than last year, at the moment it just seems more complicated.  It's hard not to feel sad, so many sad things keep happening, and there isn't much to stop them from happening again.  In my heart and mind, the saner parts at least, I know all these things are happening for good reason, and that usually what goes on is for the best, but seriously, it would be nice if the best thing didn't have to make me feel like crap.  I feel like I've cried more this year than I have in a long, long time, and every good accomplishment comes with a punishment.  I don't know if the world has to keep some sort of balance or what.  Unfortunately, the bad always seems to outweigh the good.  Probably because the bad is so definite and permanent and scary, while the good is intangible, delicate, and simple.

Is the pain a sign that the love was true?  That something precious is gone?  It's hard to tell.  And I struggle with letting myself mourn sufficiently because I can't tell what's a healthy amount of time and what's just putting me down.  I'm afraid I'm depressed and in complete denial.  I don't know if I'm addressing my grief properly, or if it's being pushed under the rug, slowly becoming a problem that will trouble me later.  I've never been through a year like this before, and I don't really know how to navigate the minefield.  I cry a lot, which is exhausting.  I eat too much, or stop eating altogether, which is unhealthy.  I don't know if talking about it makes me feel better or worse, so I don't know if I should talk about it at all.  And I don't want to bring everyone else down into my misery, so I don't want to talk about it.  The fear of the unknown is so much bigger than what people think.  Being afraid of your own future is probably a serious issue.

So I don't really know what to do these days.  My big big plans have kind of fallen by the way since July.  Moving might help.  Seeing the family and being on the farm did help.  I struggle with finding my inner balance, to stay in a place that makes me feel content, if not completely happy.  There's just too much sadness sometimes.  I want to crawl into my bed and hide there and sleep everything away.  It might be a cowardly decision, but who isn't a coward when they see pain and anguish coming for them?  At least a little bit.

My grandpa died last week, and his passing felt so much harder than when my grandma died.  It could be because Grandma died suddenly, and I spent most of that mourning period in shock, while Grandpa was sick for months.  It could also be that I feel very much alone these days.  Eric was with me when I went through my grandma's passing, and after we broke up, I felt so empty.  And when I realized I was going to have to face Grandpa's death alone, that was hard.

Oh, my, I just brought myself down writing that.  I don't like this.  I don't like the way this feels, but how do I get rid of it?  Should I?  I mean, I assume that I'll feel better eventually, but do I bandage the wound or cut it off?  I don't know.  It's too hard to think about sometimes.  Should I even be blogging about it?  Sorry you guys are suffering through this if you're even still reading this.

Let's write about reality for a little while, shall we?  I should, it's been a CRAZY summer, it seems.  And even though August is still new, it feels like fall is looming on the horizon.  I'm telling you, craziness.

But it does keep life adventurous.  And even though not every adventure is a fun one, it helps move time along, and as always, adversity brings experience.  I'd rather have fun and experience, but if experience is the best thing to draw out of a not-particularly-nice adventure, I'll take it.  I do find myself quite often these days saying, "I love-" and biting off the last word.  That'll get better too.

At least apartment hunting has been a good adventure.  Occasionally frustrating, and there have been some scary landpeople out there, but some neat places to live.  Cecily and I looked at an apartment building that was completely out of our price range, but the place had just been redone, and the owner was just keen to show it off.  She knew we weren't really able to live there, but it was really nice of her to let us tramp around all those gorgeous apartments.  If there had been a one bedroom left, we might've taken it, since the "one bedroom" apartments were really more like two or three room, but alas they were all taken.  The penthouse was very impressive, two floors to itself, four or five bedrooms, three bathrooms, giant kitchen, a balcony overlooking the semi-ballroom, and I just love the windows.  Of course, to live there, it would've been us...and at least six other people.  Sigh, some other time, perhaps.

Also, Cowtown approaches...oh boy, I am excited and nervous and all that.  This will be my first year in charge of the volunteers and last year went so well, that I hope I live up to at least that.  Everyone keeps telling me not to worry, and I'm trying not to...but there's always the anxiety that the whole thing will break because of me.  Irrational?  Totally.  But a little fear will probably keep me in check.

Other than that, summer's still kicking.  I should cook tonight.  Now there's an adventure.